“I hae ither twa.”
“In that case,” said Willie, “maybe ye wad hae nae objection to pairt wi’ that ane, an’ the price offered ye wur a’ the mair temptin. I’ll gie ye the fifteen shillins I hae won the nicht, an’ my fiddle, for’t.”
“Thank ye, frien, thank ye for your offer,” replied the stranger; “but I daurna accept o’t, though I war willin. The fiddle was gien to me by Leddy Gowan, and I daurna pairt wi’t. She wad miss’t, and then there would be the deevil to pay.”
“Oh, an’ that’s the case,” said Willie, “I’ll sae nae mair aboot it; but it’s a first-rate fiddle—sae guid a ane, that it micht amaist play the lane o’t.”
It being now very late, or rather early, and the toddy jug emptied, the blind fiddler and his friend parted, on the understanding, however, that the former would visit the latter at the castle (whither he was now going, he said, to seek a night’s quarters) on the following day.
True to his appointment, Willie appeared next day at Gowan House, or Castle Gowan, as it was more generally called, and inquired for “the fiddler.” His inquiry was met with great civility and politeness by the footman who opened the door. He was told “the fiddler” was there, and desired to walk in. Obeying the invitation, Willie, conducted by the footman, entered a spacious apartment, where he was soon afterwards entertained with a sumptuous dinner, in which his friend the fiddler joined him.
“My word, neighbour,” said Willie, after having made a hearty meal of the good things that were set before him, and having drank in proportion, “but ye’re in noble quarters here. This is truly fiddlin to some purpose, an’ treatin the art as it ought to be treated in the persons o’ its professors. But what,” he added, “if Sir John should come in upon us? He wadna like maybe a’ thegither to see a stranger wi’ ye?”
“Deil a bodle I care for Sir John, Willie! He’s but a wild harum-scarum throughither chap at the best, an’ no muckle to be heeded.”
“Ay, he’s fond o’ a frolic, they tell me,” quoth Willie; “an’ there’s a heap o’ gie queer anes laid to his charge, whether they be true or no; but his heart’s in the richt place, I’m thinkin, for a’ that. I’ve heard o’ mony guid turns he has dune.”
“Ou, he’s no a bad chiel, on the whole, I daresay,” replied Willie’s companion. “His bark’s waur than his bite—an’ that’s mair than can be said o’ a rat-trap, at ony rate.”